


Again

by AllTrekkedUp



Category: Martin and Lewis
Genre: M/M, Old Friends, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Well here we go again folks!, old loves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22614286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTrekkedUp/pseuds/AllTrekkedUp
Summary: Remember that time I said I wouldn't fall into the reunion rabbit hole?  Well I'm having loads of fun, why don't you join me?
Relationships: Jerry Lewis/Dean Martin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solsikkepop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solsikkepop/gifts).



He shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be doing this. It has been too long, too many years have passed, the old wounds are healed, at least he thinks they are, why in the name of God would willingly cut them afresh? He tries to comfort himself in saying that it is only a TV appearance, only a few moments, only a few bars of a few songs that he could sing without thinking of the words. But he knows that isn't the case, because it is too simple and nothing is simple where Jerry is concerned, he is far from a one dimensional person, not even the fucking characters he plays are one dimensional. He remembers how different their thinking was, he stood still while Jerry ran, like the world spinning and the sun remaining still, he used to talk about how wonderful their love was, laying on Dean's pillow, tracing hearts on his chest talking about how everything made him feel, how their sex life improved other parts of his life and how feeling Dean breathe at night helped him sleep. He wiped his hand across his face before taking his cigarette out to blow the smoke, God why was he thinking about those ancient memories right now? He picked up the bottle of Jack from Frank's dressing table and poured more into the glass he was holding, he shouldn't be here.

"Hey, I know you love the drunk act but that's not apple juice, pal," Frank reminded. He sat in his chair and gave his friend a look. This whole thing had been his idea, his plan, he had wanted Dean to kiss and make up with Jerry for years and it was happening in less than an hour.

"Aw leave me alone, Frank," Dean said, before downing yet another glass. Having smoked that one to the butt he took out his pack and lit up another, his fifth in forty minutes, he had never been so nervous in his life.

"Say, you ain't gettin' cold feet are ya?" Frank asked.

"You bet your ass I am! I haven't felt this way since I married Jeanne," Dean said, he couldn't meet Frank's eyes, he looked at the door.

"Well you're gonna go out there and get your vows renewed with that kid and you'll thank me for it later. Trust me on this," Frank said.

"I don't know, Frank. I-" 

A knock on the door hushed him silence and Franl motioned for him to get behind a rack of tuxes by the wall. "Who is it?" he asked.

"It's your one and only, Frankie," came Jerry's voice through the door.

Frank looked to make sure Dean was welly hidden, or as welly hidden as he could be, he hurriedly yanked the cigarette from Dean's mouth and put it in his own. "Come on in," be called.

"Why the wait? You have your byrd out or somethin'?" Jerry asked as he walked in.

"If I had I wouldn't a made ya wait," Frank replied. 

Jerry laughed. 

That laugh. That voice. It had changed some with age but oh God, it made Dean's heart pound in his chest as he crouched behind the clothes. That voice telling him what they were going to do in the show that night, knowledgeable, talented, changing from one accent to another with ease, making the most God awful sounds on stage and the most beautiful ones when they were alone. That voice, yelling at him from time to time for being late, for not wanting to rehearse, for his seeming disinterest. That voice, telling him he loved him, calling him bubbe and Paul and gushing with affection. That voice, sad, thick with tears when they said good-bye... He swallowed. He shouldn't be here.

"I just wanted to drop in and tell you it's almost time for you to come out," Jerry said.

"Well I'll be out on time, kid. Don't worry," Frank assured. 

"I know. I just wanted to see ya. Kiss me luck?" Jerry asked. 

Dean recognized it as something Jerry used to ask him.  
He didn't hear anything for a few moments, knowing Frank probably had his damn tounge down Jerry's throat damn it, had he forgotten he had another friend stuffed behind a clothes rack that was getting an ache in his back?!

"Oh, Frank. You always go the extra mile, just like your cock," Jerry joked after a sigh.

Frank laughed and lightly slapped Jerry's cheek. "Go on out there, I'll see you in a bit," he said.

Dean knew Jerry had left with the "click" of the door going closed, he strightened up and lit up another, and drank the last of the booze in his glass. "Did you have to keep him in here that long? I coulda died back there!" he complained. 

"What's a matter, Dino? Jealous?" Frank smirked.

No I am not jealous, you bastard!" Dean said, but again did not meet Frank's eyes.

Frank smiled. "It'll be good. For both of you. I promise. But I have to go out now, you know when you're supposed to come out, if you don't there will he consequences," he said, giving Dean a hard look.

"Well bend me over and fuck me!" Dean mocked.

"I will. And that will only be the start of it!" Frank said with a stronger tone as went out the door.

Dean sighed and took Frank's seat as soon as he heard him walk down the hall, he poured another and blew smoke into the mirror. As it cleared he looked at himself, so many years had passed, he was no longer the broze adonis Jerry used to fawn over. What would he say when he saw him again? What would he think of him? He certainly wasn't ready to be put out to pasture but he was no longer twenty- nine, or thirty-nine for that matter, what if Jerry didn't want anything to do with his booze and smoke abused Italian body? But then why the hell did he care? He didn't even want to be here. He wasn't jealous. He didn't miss- he collapsed down on his elbows, weary of the lies he told himself. He shouldn't be here, but here is where he longed to be.


	2. Chapter 2

And so here he was, waiting in the wings. It was almost time. He cast a glance behind him, it was a straight shot down the hall, a turn or two, he could be to freedom relatively fast. But then there was Frank, what hell he would have to pay for skipping out, there was the fact there were four guys corralling him in so that his only open direction was through the curtain in front of him. He might have been older now but he thought he could still knock a couple of them over to make a break for it. 'I'm thinking like a fucking criminal!' he thought. Maybe all that Jack was kicking in, God what a time for that to happen!

He heard his cue as he was lighting up another one, the man to his left lifted the curtain back for him and oh fuck he was taking his first steps out onto the stage. The crowd of course saw him first and started applauding and carrying on, then he saw Frank, the bastard, and then there he was. Smiling, shocked, Dean couldn't help but smile, he came up to him and hugged him tightly, without thought, after all these years he needed to touch him, that touch that he had missed. In his mind he went back, all the fucking way, to the Jersey shore in summer, to a kid saying, 'You know, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me'. And he replying, 'Well if I'm the best thing you musta had a rotten life till now.' Where had those times gone?

Pulling away Dean looked at him, there was no longer a kid there, Jerry was a grown man, a beautifully handsome, well dressed, grown man, Dean reach out again to touch him just to make sure that he was real. He felt in awe of him as Frank talked and Jerry said something, he couldn't remember what even came out of his own mouth because he was in awe of him, this man he used to know. This man he used to be partners with, that he traveled the world with, that he shared a room with, this man who was closer to him than anyone else, that he opened up to on rare occasion, that knew him, that he loved. Love. What a beautiful and wonderful cosmic feeling, and yet a cruel master sending the soul into torment. He and Jerry knew every meaning of the word between them, many times Dean felt like he wasted it and didn't deserve it. Certainly not from this man after so many years.

They talked a bit, ad libbing, an old specialty, and then he and Frank had to sing. But he couldn't take his eyes off of Jerry, watching him walk, he used to know the sound of his step in a crowded room, he used to know when he was going to take his next breath, when he was going to jump in his arms, when he was going to roll over in bed and how many times he got up to take a leak in the night. He used to know everything, but that was a long time ago, so long. Now he couldn't even sing, Jerry combined with Jack made him forget where he even was, there was only Jerry, and God he couldn't look that way or they would never get through this.

And then it was over. And Dean was leaving the stage. He didn't want to, but he needed to, he needed to just finish up getting drunk and pass out on the bed, make all these feelings go away with asprin and golf in the morning. He went to his hotel but found he couldn't get a bottle of anything but water- damn Frank's ass- so he stripped down to boxers and sat down to find a western on TV. He was surpised at a knock on the door a couple of hours later and thought for sure it was probably Frank, so he opened the door without changing. 

"H- oh," came the voice and a smile to go with it. 

There he was again. That man he used to know.


End file.
